Reflections
by Persefonie
Summary: This is a relatively short one shot. Hawke reflects on the moments between complicated friends.  and of course Bio-Ware owns everything :D


**So this is my first post, I'm a bit apprehensive so be gentle. ^_^ I hope you enjoy it!**

Hawke sat silently, staring into the dying flames.

She and her friends were camped along the shore of the wounded coast. They had a number of jobs that they would be seeing to in the morning. Out of either genius or foolishness she had allowed the work here to pile up. Her thoughts rolled into darker planes, if one of them got injured beyond the normal scrapes and knocks of battle it would be her fault for having them along. She sighed, thinking of Merrill, the poor elf had gotten hit in the stomach with more than a few crossbow bolts on their last outing, and was at home recovering under the watchful eyes of Varric and Aveline. It was only thanks to Anders that she was even still alive. Doubts plagued Hawke, what would she do if one of her friends died as a result of her pursuits? These woeful thoughts were broken by the fire popping she shivered and added a few twigs to the small pit of flame. She loved being away from the city. Breathing the cool clean air, aside from the salty breeze, it reminded her of Lothering the home she sorely missed.

She had volunteered for first watch, knowing she wasn't likely to sleep even if she tried. She mutely mulled over her not so recent past her thoughts passed to Carver, the brother she had lost, and Bethany, the sister she had abandon who now was imprisoned deep in the fortress known as the gallows. Her throat constricted as she thought of her mother, who desperately tried to hold the family together. Shaking her head she warded off the shadows of regret. It was too late now, what was it that Varric had always told her, "The past is the past there is no point trying to change it now, we just take what we have and make the best of it." A far away smile graced her pale features; the dwarf had always been a source of companionship and comfort. He was truly one of her most trusted and respected friends. Her thoughts of her companions only made her smile widen. She had a place in her heart for each and every one of them, despite whatever differences they may have had. Her eyes wandered over the three sleeping forms that accompanied her on this outing. Sebastian the Prince of Starkhaven lay closest to her. Sleeping as a child would he was curled in a loose ball hands resting by his head, peaceful, as any would expect a chantry brothers sleep to be. This picture seemed to contrast his surroundings, his bow was within an arm's reach and a dagger could be seen protruding from underneath the corner of the rolled up cloak he was using as a pillow. She thought of his words earlier that day, he had said things that made her prickle with uneasiness. His talk had been accompanied by a flash of desire somewhere in those dark blue eyes. Her inner voice told her the words she had been dreading since they had spoken a few months ago, she needed to distance herself from him. "No," she thought hopefully, "He's a brother in the chantry I do not have to worry about him following me about as Anders does." The voice gave a reply that made her heart ache within her chest, "Can you be sure, if you are wrong… You are to blame for his heart break."

These thoughts caused her eyes to wander to the fitful mage. Anders slept stretched out on his back, staff clutched loosely in his right hand while his other hand twitched on his stomach. His blonde hair, now loose, framed his handsome features, as struggles in the fade knit his brows together he mumbled in his sleep. He was a good man, strong, but weak in his strength. She observed sorrowfully as Justice plagued his dreams. This poor troubled man how she wished she could return the feelings he had for her. It was no secret among her friends that he had fallen for her. They all thought she was oblivious, with the exception of Varric, yet she had known from their first conversation. He had a hint of longing behind those honey brown eyes. This was the same longing Sebastian now possessed. She had tried to love him, but she could not. His advances only served to make her ill. It just felt so wrong. She couldn't explain it, perhaps it was Justice, but she could not bear his touch. This saddened the rogue, for she knew it would cause him pain.

Her gaze then reluctantly passed to the final member of the group. The elf wedged upright against a rock his legs stretched out before him. Both of his long fingered hands firmly grasped the blade that lay across ways on his lap. Softness crept into her expression, as she gave him a look she only reserved for him when there were no observers. He looked so sad and broken as a gentle frown crossed his features. He hugged his weapon to him. The offshore breeze tousled white hair softly. She wanted so badly to re-assemble him, to pick up this broken man and soothe his pain. She had tried but it was too much. She had pushed too hard and he had walled up inside pushing people even further out of his life. A mournful hum escaped her lips as she reflected on her surprise that he had even agreed to come. It had been two months since anyone of their group had even seen him. Two months since her mistake. Painful memories threatened her serene state. That night, she had known, the moment she saw him silhouetted against the fire, that she had pressed too hard and an damaged more than she could hope to repair. Her regret consumed her for the next three days. She refused to see anyone, keeping her curtains drawn, the rogue spent the next three days in a darkened room praying for the peace of sleep telling Bohdan she had a head ache. When she finally broke her three day reverie she had stumbled into the chantry seeking council and spoke the events to the only brother she trusted Sebastian. It was after this she had seen the yearning take up residence in those beautiful Starkhaven blues. "Dearest prince, how I wish I could see you as something more than a brother, your chivalry and favor is not well spent on the likes of me" she silently chided the silent man and shook her head sadly. The only other who knew about the events of that fateful day was Varric she had gone to him after seeing the birth of desire in Sebastian's eyes.

A mask of mourning had descended her features like a shadow. Her silence was broken by a quiet cough and she realized that the man she was currently gazing at had long since opened his eyes and was now looking at her with a cautious tilt of the head. His mossy green eyes questioned her wistful stillness. She started and shifted her abashed stare to the dancing flames that seemed to have rekindled with her shame.  
>He cleared his throat again, and mumbled something about taking the next watch. Hawke nodded avoiding his still questioning gaze, and stood to go to her bed roll that lay unprepared beside his resting place. Fenris got to his feet shaking the stiffness from his muscles. The woman began the task of laying out her bed for the night. As she worked at the tight knot securing the bundle of blankets she kept her eyes trained on the sandy ground beneath her feet. It was then she felt something, a subtle change a warmth beside her as the elf crouched low to come level with her ear. His whisper was almost like a growl only gentle and laced with care, "Do not think I have forgotten you, I see the concern in your eyes. As long as you wish Sara I shall remain only yours." His tone and closeness made her shiver. He then stepped away to fill her place by the fire. She shakily finished laying out her blankets, and began to quietly rummage through her pack. She finally grasped the red sash she had been searching for. She then paused fingering the embroidered crest smiling at the memory. The sash bore the crest of her mother's family the golden thread now worn and loose. A noble's daughter, Leandra Amell, had bestowed this same gift on a young Malcolm Hawke before they had fled Kirkwall 10 months prior to her birth. She rose and quietly made her way to the Warrior's side. Her fingers seemed to shake more than usual as she hesitantly wound the worn red cloth around his left wrist securing it firmly. She murmured words only he, with his acute senses could hear, " Always, I will wait for your return. With this goes my heart." Her touch lingered for a moment and she let her hands fall, not daring to meet his eyes afraid of what she may find. Now it was his turn to dwell on recent events though his thought were decidedly more precise. "How could she not hate me?"<p> 


End file.
